Mary laughed.
"Do we cart a gang along?"
Mary had a vision of a tin ear. She shook her head.
"I see no occasion for a large party, Mr. Marshall. We might ask one or two besides the family; the bishop, for instance."
"Now you're joshing me. Into what part of the world do we sail this yacht, if you don't happen to be under sealed orders."
He was traveling somewhat rapidly, Mary thought; and she was right. Bill was already cleaving the high seas, perched on his own quarter-deck and inhaling stupendous quantities of salty air.
"I think we'd better obtain your aunt's approval before we plot out a cruise," she advised. "Also, there's the problem of getting a yacht."
"We'll get one if we steal it," Bill assured her. "I'll talk to Pete about it. He's amphibious. He's a sort of nautical valet. He knows all about yachts."
"I dare say. He seems to have a wide range of information. Suppose you consult him, while I speak to your aunt."